


make you cry

by helwolves



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Blurred Realities, Canon-Typical Injury, Final Haikyuu Quest, M/M, SASO 2017, Selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 02:44:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12122799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helwolves/pseuds/helwolves
Summary: The old king’s voice is like tearing parchment, and Tooru can almost feel it dragging over his bones. Still, he doesn’t look up from the castle floor where he’s kneeling, rope-bound and shivering in just his track pants and threadbare Aoba Johsai t-shirt.





	make you cry

**Author's Note:**

> [SASO BR2 fill.](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11665641#cmt11665641) Lark wrote an excellent second-person fill for this prompt and it made me want to try the selfcest pronoun challenge too. Re: archive warnings and the lack thereof, noncon and underage might apply in the mildest sense, but there's nothing at all graphic here, so...

“Why are you _crying_?”

The old king’s voice is like tearing parchment, and Tooru can almost feel it dragging over his bones. Still, he doesn’t look up from the castle floor where he’s kneeling, rope-bound and shivering in just his track pants and threadbare Aoba Johsai t-shirt.

“I’m only going to take some of your vitality, not your life. So don’t be ungrateful!”

Tooru chokes down a sob. None of this makes sense, but watching as each fat tear spreads and darkens the grey stone where it falls—that much seems real. Then the king is moving; Tooru can hear the rustling of a voluminous cloak, the clack of heels crossing the throne room.

“ _Look at me_.”

But Tooru has always been willful. The old king sighs, a hollow rattling, and crouches in front of him with a swirl of dust and black brocade. Then a hand comes to grip Tooru’s jaw—it’s cold, the nails sharp, the fingers gnarled, but still strong. Too strong.

Tooru looks up.

The king stares down at him, seeming unimpressed, with brown eyes lifeless and pale like something left out in the sun for too many years, and skin just as faded.

“Oh,” Tooru says, in barely a breath. “I—you.”

The king’s smile is brittle but all too familiar. Fangs notwithstanding.

“Yes. _You_.”

Tooru—the young Tooru, the _real_ Tooru (because he is, _he is_ )—digs deep, engages in a familiar battle to re-exert control over his own features. He thinks he manages, gritting his teeth and narrowing his eyes, though he can still feel the tears searing wet paths down his cheeks.

“But what— _why_?” he spits out. It’s difficult not to fixate on the twisted, cracked horns that adorn the old king’s head, but Tooru knows maintaining eye contact is important in confrontations, even if he hasn’t gotten a handle on his words yet.

The king clicks his tongue. “I’m extremely powerful, of course, but power always comes with a cost.” The smile returns—sharper, sadder. “And youth comes in fixed quantities.”

Then Tooru is choking, those cold hands wrapped tight around his throat and in his hair, and the king is leaning in close, closer, as if meaning to steal a kiss...

“Oh, stop struggling. This—well, it _will_ hurt, but it will be over soon.”

  


+

  


“Oikawa? What’s—shit, are you _crying_?”

Tooru hears the pounding sneakers long before he looks up to see Iwaizumi standing framed by the club room door—all in shadows because Tooru has the lights out, but he doesn’t need to see to know what kind of face Iwaizumi’s making.

“Obviously not, Iwa-chan,” Tooru says, forcing nonchalance into his voice, sitting up straighter where he’s sprawled on the floor against some shelves. “You didn’t have to come back, I was just—”

“No. Don’t give me that... Did you fucking hurt yourself?”

“I—I think I might have fainted? And maybe... ah, never mind.”

“ _Oikawa_.”

Tooru tries for a laugh, because he wants to brush away that uncomfortable look of concern. Because he wants to hold off his own creeping fear. Because he’d tried to stand when he came to, alone in the middle of the empty gym, in the dark, but he’d been strangely too weak to hold himself upright.

“It’s fine! Only—I might’ve twisted my knee, when I fell?”

It hurts, still, and his head still feels like it’s full of cotton and stars, but Tooru doesn’t want to tell Iwaizumi how much it hurts; he just hopes it will be over soon.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/helwolves/) ★ [tumblr](https://helwolves.tumblr.com/)


End file.
